To Kill A Hope
by SanguineNoctis
Summary: Post-Avengers. As his punishment, Loki has been given over to Tyr, god of war, as his slave. Thor is nowhere in sight and Loki is alone. Can he endure what's to come? Two-shot, Loki-whump, h/c. WARNING: contains non-con, slavery, angst. If this disturbs you, don't read.
1. Chapter 1

**Warnings:** rape/non-con, slavery, sexual slavery, extreme violence, blood, suicidal thoughts

(About slash: my own opinion is that slash relationships are between two _consenting_ parties. Therefore, I'll go ahead and say there's no slash in this story, just m/m rape/non-con.)

**Disclaimer: **Loki and Thor should thank their lucky stars they don't belong to me, I'm horrible.

A/N: Ugh, I was so reluctant about posting this, it's just so horrible (well, hopefully not horrible _writing_ just horrible content). This is, by far, the most violent rape that I've written into a story, so please heed the warnings I've posted. There's violence besides the rape, too (mostly in the second chapter).

_To clarify about Tyr_: he's not meant to be the Marvel Tyr or necessarily the mythology Tyr, I just used him because I know he's in the comics and he has a fairly recognizable name to most. I know nothing about him in the comics (except his general appearance), and he doesn't seem like a horrible guy in the myths either. He's not an Odinson here, so this isn't pseudo-incest. He also isn't missing his hand. I felt that MCU!Loki didn't have any children, and if that's true, then Fenrir doesn't exist and therefore wouldn't have bitten Tyr's hand off.

Chapter 1 of 2

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_**To Kill A Hope -**** Chapter 1**_

It was raining outside. The droplets pitter-pattered on the windows, creating streaks of shadows on the white-marble floor. There was, however, no thunder, no lightning, nothing that might comfort the god of mischief standing in the center of the room.

Loki shivered as he looked about the room, absently tugging at the chains around his bound wrists. The candle-light was dim, orange, but somehow not soft or comforting as it once might have been.

His feet were bare and his clothes plain, but strangely, new. After months in the dungeons, Loki wondered why, after being dragged away from his cell, several servants were appointed to clean him up. He was cleaned and given a fresh green tunic and dark grey trousers, although they didn't offer him footwear. His hair, too, had been cut and cleaned, and his injuries, for the most part, tended. It was... strange.

The last thing the servants did was give him back to the guards, who escorted him with new chains into this room he didn't recognize. This part of the palace was for nobility and warriors of prestige but Loki hadn't spent very much time here when he was still a prince, thus he knew very little of who actually lived in these vast - and quite beautifully decorated - rooms.

While his back was toward the front door, it burst open, causing the trickster to whip around, startled. Needless to say, he was somewhat nervous about this strange turn of events, uncertain what to expect - what new punishment he was to endure.

At the door entered none other than Tyr, god of war. His eyes gleamed when he saw the former prince, a wide and excited grin spreading across his face. Tyr wasn't exactly an elder god - at least not yet - but he was certainly older than Loki and Thor and many of the younger gods. Still, despite his many years of service, in both war and council to the king, the warrior-god still looked youthful, if only for his odd jubilance at the moment.

"Loki!" he said, chuckling, walking forward slowly. Tyr's hair was almost as dark as Loki's, several braids beaded with gold hung about his well-kept mane.

The once-prince bowed his head slightly, deciding to heed caution given his vulnerable state. "My lord," he returned with eyes lowered.

The war god laughed along with his smile, which had somehow grown wider as he stood before Loki. "I would have never, in all my years, thought to see a prince of Asgard - even a former prince - in this state."

Loki frowned slightly in confusion, staring at the floor. _And what 'state' would that be? As a prisoner? A traitor?_ But he didn't dare speak. Many held the god of war as second only to Thor in battle prowess, and others still thought him greater even than the thunder god. They were fools, of course; even if Loki hated Thor, he knew what he was capable of - god of war Tyr may be, but he would never best Thor in a true battle.

When Loki said nothing, the older god shook his head, saying, "Or do you even understand why you are here, hm, prince?"

The mischief god narrowed his eyes slightly at being called 'prince' when it was meant to mock, but schooled his features quickly lest he be punished for it. He shook his head in answer.

Tyr was silent for a moment, staring at him. Loki resisted the urge to shrink back at the strange gaze, the eyes burning with something he didn't care to guess at. "Well," began Tyr as he slowly circled the trickster god, "perhaps I should inform you then."

Loki shivered as he lost sight of the other, somewhere at his back, even more so when he remained there. A hand was placed on Loki's right shoulder, then, slowly, his left, as well. He resisted the urge to shiver again.

When Tyr's voice whispered next to his ear, the younger god couldn't help but flinch. "You're no longer a _prisoner_, Loki..." The hot breath on his neck made him clench his jaw. "The great and wise All-father has decided to... _adjust_ your sentence." _How?_ Loki wanted to ask, to _speak_, but he couldn't make words form at the dryness in his throat. "You," said Tyr slowly, as if tasting a fine wine, "are now a slave..."

Loki's eyes widened as his breath hitched. _No..._ His head snapped up as his entire body went rigid, his shoulders riding up, wishing the hands would release him.

"And," continued Tyr in a more normal tone, "as you may have guessed, you are _my_ slave." Loki was abruptly and harshly jerked around until he faced the war god. He stared at the floor, head turned to the side to avoid looking the other in the face. "Did you hear me, trickster? You are _mine_ now, and there's nothing to keep you from me any longer." The mischief god's eyes darted to Tyr's in his sudden confusion. _What?_ The other chuckled. "Surely you've been aware of my desire for you all these years?"

Loki lowered his gaze again. Well, certainly he had suspected, but he hadn't given it much thought. Tyr was known to take both maidens and young men into his bed, but being a prince, Loki had never feared any advances from the god of war. And besides, Thor all but smashed in the skulls of anyone who so much as looked at his little brother in an unseemly manner - a source of much annoyance for the trickster god, but it was quite useful in keeping away unwanted attention.

Slaves and servants were often rewarded to great warriors and champions, as Tyr was, and Loki began to realize why he might be here. He had, perhaps, been... _rewarded_ to the great warrior. Then... Odin had truly disowned Loki; if anything in the All-father still considered Loki as a son, he would never have reduced him to this... _a slave_.

Loki felt his eyes close slowly as he lowered his head and allowed the warrior's tight hold on him. There was nothing he could do; his magic had been taken when he was sentenced to the dungeons, and he had barely been a match for anyone in Asgard _with_ it - he had _no_ chance now. And even if he did stand a chance, a slave was mere property, basically a pet, the penalty for disobedience wasn't death - as was typical for servants or free-folk - but instead torture until they submitted. Of course, a master could have his or her slave killed if they wished, but slaves were expensive and greatly sought-after - they were rarely killed.

Seeing this reaction, Tyr shook him a little, as if good-naturedly, then clapped both hands on his shoulders as the smile returned in full. "Do not worry, prince, I will _take care_ of you... especially in your brother's absence." He walked away then, toward the bed. He had said the last part as if it were a jest, his smile threatening another laugh.

"Thor-?" Loki blurted out, frowning. And where _was_ Thor, anyway? Surely he would never have allowed... _this..._

The war god turned around. "Your brother is on Midgard - he has been since your sentencing. What?" he asked, tilting his head and smirking. "Did you think he had abandoned you in that dungeon?" He called for a servant, who entered and began removing Tyr's armor without prompt, placing it on an armor rack near a large wooden armoire beside the bed. "You would be correct, then," he continued, raising his arms to allow the young servant easier access. "We've heard nary a word from the thunderer since he took his leave of us."

_Abandoned..._ But of course, what should Loki expect? He had thought it somewhat odd that Thor hadn't visited him, even once during his stay in the dungeons, but he had told himself it was nothing to worry about - the great and mighty Thor had simply, _finally_ accepted that Loki was not his brother, that they were nothing but enemies, and that his vaunted _sentiment_ was nothing but useless drivel that made Loki sick. Still... If he had known this might be a possible outcome, to be given over to someone as a slave, he might have accepted the thunderer's affections and proclamations of brotherhood, if only to stave off such a result.

Loki sighed. It was easy to see his mistakes after he had already made them. But it wouldn't have mattered, would it? Thor was away, playing on his little dirt-ball of a realm - he had no doubt forgotten his once-brother in favor of his new human toys.

Tyr took Loki's sigh as something else. "Tired, prince?" he asked, almost as if in true concern.

Loki knew better.

For whatever reason he couldn't fathom, he suddenly felt the urge to rebel, tired of the man calling him _prince_ as if it didn't degrade him further; his disgusting smile obscene when Loki's life was falling apart. The god of lies lifted his head and set his piercing gaze on the man before him. As if he knew what was to come, the servant left in a hurry.

The war god didn't see the darkening gaze on him at first, but after the servant left, his smile slowly faded as his eyes returned the furious gaze. "So," he began, voice lilting, "there's some fight in you yet." He smiled again, walking forward. Loki resisted the impulse to step back. "I do hate a slave without some fight in him, they're so much more... _fun_ when they have a little spirit left in them."

Loki flared his nostrils and swallowed when the man's hand slowly reached out then rested around his throat. It did nothing but rest there, but Loki felt absolutely _trapped_ by that large hand, knowing suddenly, and absolutely, that this man could do anything to him and he wouldn't be able to resist. Then, suddenly, the words from earlier rushed back to him, _"...there's nothing to keep you from me any longer."_ Loki's eyes widened slightly at the memory as he swallowed again, heavily.

Tyr chuckled at his display. "Do you have any idea how _long_ I've waited for this moment?" he said in a hushed but dangerously lust-filled voice. Loki could only stare in horror as the revelation of what was to come next slowly crept up his spine. Suddenly, he was jerked forward until his face was barely a breath away from the other's. He attempted to turn his head but the hand around his throat was slowly tightening. Tyr continued, "To have you... to _have you_, here, with me... Mine..." he nearly growled, "_Mine._"

He pulled the younger god closer until their bodies nearly touched, Loki choked on a whimper that attempted to escape when he felt Tyr's obvious arousal between them. He was allowed to turn his head slightly away, but Tyr brushed his face against the side of Loki's cheek, growling once again and smelling of his skin. The trickster gritted his teeth and clenched his eyes shut. The other hand slipped around Loki's waist and pulled up the shirt at his back as the fingers slid a little higher with each passing moment. Next, the same hand slid back down, then began tugging, ever so lightly, at the back of his trousers, as if it to pull them down. But it wasn't until the hand around his throat moved to hold the nape of his neck that something in Loki snapped; he growled and jerked away, then pushed with all his might at the warrior until Tyr fell back against the bed. Loki was ready to attack again when he heard Tyr - he was _laughing_ as he half-leaned on the edge of his bed.

"_Yes!_" he bellowed, eyes glowing with something dangerous that made Loki suddenly want to flee instead of fight. The door was in the opposite direction of the bed... perhaps he _should_ run? No, that wouldn't do; Tyr would easily catch him before he reached the door since he was still so close. Still, perhaps if Loki made himself an unruly slave, he would have to endure a different kind of punishment than this - and this _was_ a punishment, the worst kind. He would rather endure torture than be someone's bed slave for the rest of his life. But - no, that might end worse. Slaves were allowed to run free for a reason, they simply _wouldn't_ run away. They had been broken, tortured into submission and _trained_ to be good and obedient slaves. Loki wasn't so prideful that he thought he could endure whatever the master torturers might inflict upon him. They had had _millenia_ to perfect their craft, and what was more, they would have near an eternity to break Loki... _No._ No, he should stop now, _stop_ and _think_. There had to be something...

On instinct, Loki scurried and jumped away when Tyr lunged for him, arms ready to grab him around the waist. Despite his attempt at logical thinking, Loki couldn't help his actions now; here was a predator, determined with a _hungry _look in his eyes, and the prey wouldn't be able to help himself but run.

Breath already unsteady and ragged, Loki scrambled across the bed, avoiding Tyr as he ran toward him, barely missing grabbing his bare foot as he fell on his face on the bed. A quick glance at the older god frightened Loki further - the man was _smiling_, the gleam in his eyes taking on a decidedly violent edge that made Loki tremble.

The room was quite large and Loki scrambled in a panic around the room, knocking over small furniture and items in an attempt to get away from his seemingly half-maddened and lust-filled pursuer. He yelped each time he was almost caught, but he managed to slip away every time with a sharp jab or quickened step. His thoughts screamed at him to _run, run, run!_ but some part of him understood that being caught would be inevitable. He still couldn't bring himself to acknowledge that part yet, though.

The next thing Loki knew, there was a blade in his hand. Although his vision was blurred - from what he wasn't certain - and he couldn't tell exactly what sort of weapon it was, except that it was sharp and metal, he held it aloft in a feeble attempt to stave off his attacker.

"Do _not_ come near me," came Loki's shaky voice, "or I _will_ _kill you_," he finished with a hiss. Even his own words sounded weak to him, but he felt slightly better at saying them.

But Tyr seemed unphased, grin widening as he opened his mouth; his stance predatory and slightly crouched. "Do _try_, my prince," was all he said, voice dripping with mockery and glee.

Loki's arm shook fiercely as he attempted to point it at the other, his own crouch more of an attempt to shrink into himself. "Stay back!" Loki screamed as the monster before him lunged suddenly but stopped just as abruptly. Sweat poured down Loki's face and body, he _didn't know what to do_. Attacking the other was _ludicrous_, truthfully.

Still...

Loki struck out just as Tyr moved to grab at him. The war god sidestepped the thrust blade immediately, but in his desire for the object before him, his move was a little slow and the edge of the blade slid against his exposed left arm. The next thing Loki knew he was on the ground, his hand twisted in a vicious grip, the weapon lost, his back aching and his head dizzy from the impact. A hand was once again around his throat, but harsh and squeezing tightly this time. He was lifted into the air with ease the next moment, his feet dangling. But where he expected to see anger in the war god's eyes, he instead saw a savage and raw glee; mouth closed and nostrils flaring, watching the prey squirm in the too-strong grip.

The young god attempted to struggle, but he could barely move as his lungs cried out for air. His hands scrambled for purchase somewhere, _anywhere_, but it was all useless.

He was suddenly pulled into a rough kiss that grazed his chattering teeth, a thick tongue forcing its way into his mouth. Loki was too shocked to do anything so he attempted to breathe through his nose and not sob into the other's mouth. Only a moment later Tyr pulled away, but not before biting Loki's lower lip viciously. The mischief god felt a line of blood fall down his chin but had no time to do anything about it as he was carried - still by his throat - to the bed.

"No!" he managed to choke out as the bed neared, but the war god didn't heed him, throwing him onto the bed. And before Loki could scramble away again, the larger god bared down on his trembling form, holding Loki down on his back with his substantial weight. Still, Loki struggled with everything in him. He knew he looked pathetic; arms flailing about and legs attempting to find purchase anywhere they could, eyes wide and body shaking fiercely. "Let me go!" Loki screamed, voice breaking. "Get off-!"

He pushed at the man's head with his still-bound hands, but Tyr easily grabbed the chain linking them together and placed them roughly above his head.

"No!" Loki screamed again. He was caught off-guard when the war god backhanded him. Loki gasped and paused, but only for a moment. No matter what happened here, no matter _what_, he would fight with _everything_ in him. Let it never be said that Loki, god of mischief and chaos, took it without a fight - he wouldn't be able to live with himself if he just... surrendered. No. _No._

But it was all pointless, wasn't it?

He heard and felt his measly clothing being ripped - cool air touching his sweat-soaked thighs and legs. It seemed barely seconds later, even with all his fighting, that Loki's trousers had all but been removed. Apparently not satisfied with his work, Tyr growled in frustration and ripped Loki's shirt as well, almost completely off except for what little lay under his back.

As Tyr had lifted slightly off of him in order to remove the shirt, Loki found it a good opportunity to kick at the man's chest. Although he did succeed in pushing him slightly back, Loki was too weak and tired to push any further. A small whimper escaped when Tyr backhanded him again, harder this time, splitting his lips, both at the top and bottom. For some reason, memories of Loki's ordeal at having his lips sewn shut flooded back to him. He screamed and began to panic, pushing even more fiercely at the form above him.

"No, no! Stop!" Loki screamed in desperation. "Get off me! _Stop!_" But his panicked movements only made him more tired as he was suddenly flipped over onto his stomach.

Tyr grunted as he manhandled the trickster into a more ready position. "Want to do it the hard way? Very well, makes no difference to me."

The change of position snapped Loki's mind back as he realized, so suddenly, that it this was _going to happen_. He was going to be raped and there was _nothing_ he could do to stop it. No one would help him as he was all alone. _So alone..._ He had no family and no friends. No allies or a single soul who might care for him. Thor and Frigga had abandoned him, the Jotun runt unworthy of even their acknowledgement. He was just an object now, to be used at the discretion of his _master_.

_No..._

Loki let a sob escape suddenly at the hopelessness of it all. What was the point of clinging to pride if it aided him naught?

Unexpectedly, _so_ unexpectedly, Tyr shoved into Loki with all his considerable strength behind it. So caught off-guard, Loki screamed, unable to move.

A whispered voice barely broke through the haze of his pain, so close to his right ear. "I would have done this gentler if you hadn't _insisted_ on resisting so much." Somehow, Loki doubted that.

The trickster couldn't speak, couldn't _move_, could barely think, as the elder god jerked out suddenly, then rammed back in just as quickly. Loki flinched forward and screamed again, the ragged sound mixed with sobs as he began to cry.

_Stop, stop, stop..._

Tyr's thrusts continued violently in short jerky movements, ensuring maximum pain on his victim. Loki wailed on the fifth thrust, feeling not unlike he was being stabbed with some bladed weapon. He bit the covers beneath his face and screamed as he couldn't even find the strength to clutch his hands into the sheets as he desperately wanted.

"Please!" he heard himself scream, but the god of war didn't yield or even pause. How long could he go like this? "_Please!_" Loki wailed into the sheets, biting hard again.

"What's...wrong...prince?" grunted the elder god between each hard thrust. "Is this...not...to your liking?" he mocked.

Loki only responded with desperate cries as he sobbed against the bed, unable to stop his violent shivers. He was sure his insides were a bleeding mess - especially since he felt sticky warmness gushing out and falling over his legs. "_Ahh!_" he screamed. "P-please, _s-stop!_" he stuttered.

The voice of Tyr wasn't so near this time. "Not...until...you learn...who you..._belong_ _to_..." he growled viciously.

The trickster couldn't help it when he shook his head into the bed. He didn't mean it as a 'no' to what had just been said, but only as a denial of everything that was happening - a way to fight back, if only in a futile attempt to make himself feel a modicum of control over himself.

But of course, the god of war didn't take it like that. "No?" he yelled. "_No?!_" His thrusts became - horrifically, impossibly - more violent than before.

Loki felt his breath catching in his throat, barely making it out. He coughed and gagged at his body breaking down, blood soaking his legs and the bed beneath. He felt bile rising in his throat and he was afraid to vomit for he might drown in it - and, he thought, it might not be such an unpleasant death, at least compared to being raped to death.

He couldn't speak anymore, words unable to even form in his mind at the impossible assault. He couldn't move anymore and could barely even feel the lower half of his body. The world was darkening and he welcomed it. His head swam and his thoughts had left him long ago.

Tyr suddenly grunted, then growled out loudly as his thrusts slowed down. Some part of Loki's addled mind recognized what was happening, but he didn't care to even _think_ it, much less respond.

He didn't feel when the war god pulled out of him, although he did feel himself being lowered.

Several moments passed - seconds, minutes or hours, he didn't know - and the war god spoke to him, saying words the trickster's mind couldn't comprehend. He was boneless and wet; no better for movement than a mere puppet.

Thus, when the god of mischief was flipped over and the assault began anew on his back, he was already halfway to unconsciousness and barely felt it.

_Yes..._ his mind managed to say. _Yes...please, sleep...yes._

Then, darkness.

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A/N: I know, I know! I'm horrible! My poor dear Loki... Alas, there's another chapter coming and the horror isn't over yet. I'll try to update tomorrow or the day after.


	2. Chapter 2

A/N: This chapter is just as insane as the last one. It's longer, too. But I hope you guys like it, even with what poor Loki has to go through. Tyr is really not a nice guy in this.

_Again_, a warning, this is very violent and not for the faint of heart. Please don't complain about what I put here, just don't read it.

Chapter 2 of 2

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_**To Kill A Hope - Chapter 2**_

Loki spent the next three weeks chained to the bed by his right ankle, unable to move from its immediate vicinity, the only thing reachable being the small chamber pot near the wall. He remained perpetually naked, not even allowed a small piece of cloth to cover himself.

At night - almost _every_ night - he was brutally raped anew by his _master_, Tyr, god of war. He felt as though he bled constantly, although his body healed itself for the most part, but rarely enough before the next assault. The servants were constantly changing the bed's sheets - the floor, too, had to be scrubbed frequently as Tyr sometimes found the bed not to his liking.

Another few weeks passed, the assaults were no less frequent but were becoming less violent and messy.

For his part, Loki kept his head down. Although it grated roughly on every sensibility he had ever held dear, the trickster did as he was told, because whenever he disobeyed, the bed awaited him, a terrible devouring beast, slavering with bloodied jaws for him to attempt asserting his will around the war god. He knew he was yielding to his _training_, for that's what it was; he was rewarded with not being harmed when he did as he was told - rewarded with a 'gentler' raping - and he was punished severely when he did not. He hated it. _Hated_ the feeling, of _knowing_ that he was listening to his instincts, the intense desire to avoid injury if he knew how- It sickened him. He sickened _himself_.

But even so, on certain occasions, he also couldn't help the other instinct, such a powerful drive, to cause _chaos_...

Tyr walked into a room in a terrible disarray. Loki hadn't been able to control himself. For the last hour, he had been brewing in his misery, his self-pity, his rising thoughts of taking his own life instead of enduring this eternal torture, but he couldn't _take it anymore_ and he snapped. Somehow, during his fit of anger, he had snapped the wooden leg of the bed he had been attached to and proceeded to completely _demolish_ the room around him. His hands bled and splinters filled his skin, but he hadn't cared. In a fitful rage, he broke the desk in the corner, then the chair next to it, then smashed the armoire with both legs, then the armor stands and now-empty weapon racks. With wide eyes and a madness that he almost feared the moment it was set loose, he had set his eyes upon the bed...

The thrice-cursed _thing_ that made his blood boil to even look at much less be in the same space as its towering wooden form. The broken leg that had once held him filled him with a thrill at its splintered spire. Rushing over, Loki had snapped each post in turn with a wicked glee he had never felt before. He then used the jagged edges of one to shred the pristine sheets- they were mocking him, _laughing_ at him with their perfection, as if nothing at all had ever happened there, as if Loki, once son of Odin but now son of no-one, hadn't been broken on its deceptively soft smooth surface, as if every horrible torture had been but a terrible memory conjured up in a fevered mind. But it _wasn't_. It _had_ happened and Loki couldn't stand the sight of it.

He had broken and smashed and pulled and _ripped_ and it _felt good_. Oh it had felt good, so good...

But now... Now _master_ was here and Loki could do nothing but grin at him, maniacally and widely, as if his lips no longer covered his teeth, no longer _existed_.

His eyes showed only madness.

_What's wrong, _master_? Don't like what I've done with the place?_

Loki lay against the wall, arms so tired and limp by his sides as his legs remained splayed out in front of him without a care to how he looked. His own blood seeped onto the floor and had smeared everywhere; somehow, even the high walls hadn't been spared.

Tyr walked in, slowly, taking it all in. Until, when he reached the center of the terrible mess, he bellowed, "_What in the Nine Realms happened here?!_" He continued looking around until his eyes fell on the supine form of the god of trickery and lies. "_You!_" he screamed, accusing finger pointed as he walked toward Loki. "How _dare_ you-"

"How dare I what?" the trickster asked casually, still smiling with too-white teeth. "Don't you like my work? I must say it's some of my best-"

He was suddenly being held aloft by his throat, the angry stare of the war god baring down on him with a fury he had never seen. His smile faded but he held the other's gaze adamantly.

"Don't you _like_ the broken thing you've created, _master_?" Loki said as if in pleasant conversation. "Or would you like me to grovel at your feet some more- that does get _boring_ after a while, don't you agree?"

_Take me take me take me don't you want to hurt me?_ Loki didn't know what he was saying, thinking. He vaguely realized this is what madness felt like. How he had felt on Midgard, but first... there had been the darkness. The abyss, everywhere, all around, _inside_-

In a seething rage, Tyr flipped Loki straight over his head, then allowed the trickster to fall and crack his head and back on the hard marble floor. The pain knocked the wind out of Loki, keeping him from screaming at the impact. His mind swam and he couldn't focus his vision, which had gone dark for a moment before returning, although not well. He coughed, but had no time to do anything else except _scream_ and _scream _because he both heard and _felt_ the sharp _crack!_ of his left leg breaking. His mind was reeling, he couldn't do anything except scream at the top of his lungs. Then, without warning, he felt a sharp _snap!_ and, looking down, realized his right arm had been broken at the elbow. He screamed some more, then again and again and _again_ because there was nothing more to do than scream.

His eyes were darkening and filling with tears, he choked on the vomit that attempted escape, then spewed it to the side - as best he could - a moment later.

"And," said the sudden voice of Tyr, breaking through the absolute pain surrounding the trickster, "since you can't keep your hands off what is _mine_..." Loki felt the wrist of his right arm break next, then, the left, as well.

He wailed and sobbed and gagged and choked on everything, the vomit still trying to come out, his spit, his _breath_.

_Why, why, why am I such a fool? _His mind somehow still worked, despite the unfathomable pain searing his entire body. _Such a fool, such a fool..._ He had been doing so well; yes, he had to endure being violated basically every night, but other than that, nothing. Well, aside from being debased at every turn, but he could take that. _I could take it._

Loki lay on his back, limp, broken - _again_ - but in body as well as in mind, this time. He could do nothing but sob and wail and whimper and lay pathetically, _when will this ever end?_ It would never end...never end...

There was something shiny near his eyes, hovering above. He blinked fiercely at it, trying to focus his vision. It was... pointy...

"Your lesson isn't over, _prince_..." The object neared, and, all at once, Loki realized what Tyr meant to do to him.

"_NO!_" Loki screamed. "No! _No, please! No no no no no-!_" He tried to move, tried to get away, do _something_, but his body was too broken to do anything but tremble.

"We'll see how rebellious you are after _this_!" screamed Tyr in a rage.

Loki felt the stabbing pain in his head, behind his eye, _gouging_, _tearing_ at the soft bulb there.

He wailed as he felt the long metal enter his skull and dig out... Dig out- Loki didn't dare look with his remaining eye at _anything_ that was happening. But it didn't matter. Tyr lifted the lid of his remaining eye and _forced_ him to look.

"Should I take the other, too?" sang the war god.

"No, _please_," Loki sobbed. "Please don't, please I didn't mean it-"

Tyr stared at him a moment, a look of bored contempt on his face. An excruciating moment passed, then, "Hm. I don't believe you."

His sight in his other eye was blotted out a moment later, nothing but darkness and the sounds of his own desperate and high-pitched screaming surrounding him.

Loki didn't know what happened next because he passed out, lost in the nothingness and pure horror of his pain and anguish, crying - at least in his mind - for someone to end it, to end it all. _Please... please end me..._

X - X

There was a sound of movement, of something heavy being dropped on cloth - of soft... Loki tried to open his eyes, but... but... _No... No no no no no no!_ He remembered. Remembered so suddenly and he gasped for air and tried to reach for his face, to check, to truly _know_ that he was blinded. But it didn't matter what he wanted because most of his limbs were broken and he couldn't move anyway, too much pain rippling through his entire being.

For a moment he lay quietly, small whimpers escaping every few seconds. He wished he could cry, _oh_ how he wished he could cry. In the moments that followed, he realized the sound from earlier was his _own_ _body_, he had been deposited on this... whatever this was. A bed?

His breath stopped. _A bed..._ A bed! Loki now attempted to struggle, a renewed desire to _get away_ rising within. _No, please, have to get away- get away!_ But he couldn't move, his body refusing his commands.

_No! Somebody help me!_ But there wasn't anyone, was there?

The bed dipped and Loki knew immediately who it was.

"No, please..." he whispered feebly, his voice shredded from too much screaming. "Please don't... please don't..." He tried to shake his head, but even that was too difficult.

"Didn't I tell you?" came his master's voice. "Did I not say that you were mine? Have I not shown you mercy when you deserved it? Behaved?"

Loki tried to nod, but, realizing he couldn't, said, "Yes, yes. Just...p-please don't- don't, I- I won't fight you again. It hurts so much already..." He sobbed, then wondered how he could without eyes and tears. "Please...master..."

_Master..._ He had never called him that before. In that moment, Loki knew. He hadn't known it before, not _truly_, but now he did. He _was_ broken. Completely. He would do anything Tyr said in order to avoid harm and after knowing what the war god would do if he misbehaved... Well, what could he do but listen?

The sound around Loki felt dead. It was far too quiet and he _hated_ it, wanted to fill it with something, even if it was his tormentor's voice. But nothing came. And the bed shifted again when his master left.

Loki didn't sigh in relief, there was too much desolation filling him for it. This, too, was the abyss, and he could do nothing but mourn that he didn't have eyes to cry.

X - X

It took a week for Loki's wrists to heal, and another two - or so he guessed, perhaps longer - for his other broken bones. His eyes had yet to heal. He had realized in the dungeons that he didn't heal as the Aesir did; that he had, all these centuries, relied on his magic to heal him, even if it was subconscious.

He stumbled around all the while, once again chained to the bed, although his chain was longer. The servants cared for him before his bones mended, and when his leg healed, they let him be, only returning to clean the room and empty his pot. Once again, when he was able, Loki was allowed to eat his master's scraps, thrown on the floor as if he were a dog. Well, what was the difference to a dog, anyway?

Tyr hadn't waited for Loki's bones to heal before taking him to bed. He was oddly gentle at first - which caused Loki to further his desire to obey lest he invoke his master's ire again - but the more severe assaults continued whenever Tyr was in a sour mood, or if he simply felt the need to. Loki just took it and attempted to stay quiet, even if he didn't always succeed. It disconcerted him extremely to be without sight, although he realized his eyes were slowly healing when he felt the soft shapes of his eyeballs forming in his skull.

Almost two months after his eyes had been removed, Loki began to see again, although his vision was quite blurry.

"Come here," Tyr commanded lightly as he sat at his table eating dinner.

Loki obeyed as the chain of his shackle skittered across the floor as he moved. He kept his head bowed and eyes downcast, stepping up to the war god. "Yes, master?" he asked timidly.

"Sit," he said, then pulled Loki into his lap as he took a chunk out of a leg of lamb. Loki did nothing to resist as he sat quietly on the man's legs. "Are you content?" asked Tyr.

_An odd question_, Loki thought. But of course, he would never answer honestly. "Yes, master," he said, staring at the floor.

"And... are you happy?"

"Yes, master," he said dutifully while nodding.

"And..." Tyr pulled him close, his face so close Loki wanted to vomit at the smell of mead and meat on his breath. "Are you _mine_?"

The trickster god hesitated, but only for a moment; he nodded a second time. "Y-yes...master." He lowered his head further and slumped, the weight on his body suddenly too heavy to bear.

Tyr pulled him into a rough kiss with a hand at the back of his head, then pulled back and took another bite of his meat. After a moment of staring at Loki, the war god growled and threw the half-eaten leg at the table, then stood up, causing Loki to stumble onto his feet. He didn't know what was happening so Loki remained still, as Tyr, strangely, cleared half the table with his arms, the numerous plates of food and goblets of wine falling with a crash to the floor.

Then, without warning, the elder god pushed Loki onto the table on his stomach, bending him over it. He growled into Loki's right ear, nibbling at the soft lobe as his hands moved over the trickster's body.

"You are...so beautiful," whispered the war god. Loki didn't move, used to his moods by now. "So beautiful..." he said again as his obvious erection rubbed against Loki's backside.

Tyr put a hand on the back of Loki's neck and pushed him down until his stomach and chest lay flat against the half-cleared table.

It wasn't long before Loki felt the tip of Tyr's manhood, ready to push in at any moment. He hated these spontaneous lust-filled outbursts; the elder god rarely, if ever, prepared Loki first and the pain was immense.

Loki cringed and whimpered quietly when Tyr pushed in roughly, but did nothing to protest.

Tyr made a sound like a grunt. "So tight... how is that... even possible?" He began slowly pushing in and out and Loki stifled a sob. How was it possible? Loki's body refused to stop healing itself, that was how it was possible. It was painful each and every time if he wasn't prepared first because his body returned to its natural state after every time, as if Loki were again a virgin and hadn't just been violently rutted into by a god of war.

Apparently, Tyr hadn't considered this - or perhaps it was merely a tease? Loki wasn't sure and he didn't really care. He gasped with small breaths at each hard thrust, the table and its contents loudly clanging against each other and the floor.

Loki wanted to tell him to stop, to get away from him - as he still wished each time - but, again, after so many times, he simply _couldn't_. _Norns have mercy, let it be quick..._

Fortunately, for the most part, it was. Tyr's seed filled Loki quickly and he pulled out a moment later.

But... a loud shaky gasp reached Loki's ears from somewhere behind him - too far to be his master's breath. His eyes darted behind him, passed Tyr, and-

He froze. He couldn't _move_. Because there, standing with eyes so wide and mouth agape, was Thor, god of thunder, son of Odin, former brother of Loki, god of mischief, son of no-one.

X - X

How had they missed the thunder god's entrance? It didn't matter, because the door was slowly shutting and Thor and his hammer stood stock still, eyes taking in the scene before him with utter confusion.

"Thor?" Tyr asked as he covered himself and stepped back. "When did you return?" At the sight of the prince of Asgard staring widely at his brother's still bent-over form, Tyr snorted. "Ah. My apologies. If I had known you would be coming I would have at least dressed him," he finished, almost awkwardly but still with a small chuckle.

Loki still couldn't move. He felt so exposed, so vulnerable, so... _wrong_ with Thor standing there, seeing him bent over a table with a man's release seeping down his legs. Since he couldn't move, Loki trembled, causing the table to shake slightly.

"Thor?" the god of war asked again, confused. "I could ask him to clean himself up if-"

"_What_-" began Thor, teeth clenched, "are you _doing_ to my _brother_?" His voice was quiet, almost _too_ low for the thunder god, but there was such a clear _rage_ behind it that Loki couldn't help but flinch.

Tyr, apparently, was less aware of Thor's personality to know when the thunder god was about to make a raging cyclone show up in the palace. "What? Oh..." he looked to Loki. "Did you not..." he trailed off, eyes darting between the prince and the former prince. Well now. Perhaps he _was _catching on.

Thor was shaking from head to toe, but in absolute _fury_, unlike Loki. The sight of Thor so angry made Loki curl into himself, his arms hiding beneath his body. He desperately wanted to hide his shame, to stand up and _do something_, but it was impossible; his body refused to heed him. But... why was Thor so angry? He couldn't care about-

"My prince," said Tyr, much more respectfully now, "surely the king informed you of-"

But he didn't get to finish his sentence as Mjolnir flew at his head and a crack of thunder shook the entire palace. "_What,_" Thor screamed, "_are you doing to my brother?!_" The sky outside darkened as a bolt of lightning split the air as another boom of thunder resonated through the walls and floor.

Tyr immediately tried to straighten himself as he stood up and stumbled slightly. "Thor- This is unnecessary, your father surely explained to you-"

"He _explained_," Thor seethed through his teeth, eyes alight with unbridled fire, "that my brother had been given over to you as punishment. He _did not_ explain that you would be _violating_ him-"

"He is _mine_!" screamed the god of war suddenly, defensively. "Your _father_," he stood up straight, "_gave_ the trickster to _me_. He is _mine_. My slave. If you have an issue with it go ask-"

Mjolnir swung at him again as he jumped to the side. "Do _not_," Thor screamed, "speak of Loki that way! He does _not_ belong to _you_! He belongs to no one!"

Loki whimpered and tried to move again, but could do nothing but watch the scene before him unfold, like something out of a dream.

"Odin gave him to me! You cannot-"

"He is _my brother_." Another flash of lightning and crack of thunder. His voice went low again, dangerous, eyes dark behind shadowed tresses. A terrible thing waiting to demolish you where you stand- if you dared. "He is _not_ yours."

Then the Hammer of Thor was flying again, then again, and again. Tyr had somehow grabbed a weapon of his own before Thor managed to strike him, the weapons clashing loudly against each other with the backdrop of a heavy torrent of rain and thunder in the sky.

The bed broke first, to Loki's utter glee, then the door to the washroom. The two great gods fought with everything they had.

Loki watched with wide eyes, uncertain what to do except watch. He didn't know what to do with his mind, either, with this new knowledge. Had Thor not known, then? Loki had thought Thor simply didn't care for him, that he had left to Midgard to avoid him, but now... That was clearly untrue.

A curtain ripped as Tyr's sword shredded it from top to bottom, Thor dodging out of the way. Next, the thunder god's hammer flew toward the war god, but Tyr, too, leapt out of its way before it could find its target. Mjolnir _did _shatter a window, though, and the rain began to pour through as the sounds of thunder rumbled through the room.

With the way clear to the sky, Thor held his hammer aloft, calling to his elemental power, lightning filling the room in a blinding light.

Loki hid his face behind his arms and looked away, and didn't look back until-

All was quiet. Thunder quietly rumbled in the distance as the rain continued to fall. Tyr was on the floor, bleeding and burned, but still breathing.

The trickster god gasped and, suddenly, fell off the table. At his brother's cry, Thor's head snapped up.

"Loki!" he bellowed worriedly, then rushed over and crouched down to Loki's prone form, setting down Mjolnir upon the floor.

Loki felt a warm cloth covering him, then next realized, at its crimson color, that it was Thor's cape. It was soft, and comforting, and it smelled of _Brother_. He curled into himself, hugging his chest tightly, but it was a useless gesture as he was quickly lifted up and embraced so tightly in the thunderer's grip that he could scarcely breathe.

"Brother..." Thor sobbed. Was Thor crying? Loki didn't know what to do for a moment. He remained stiff, not returning nor rejecting the embrace. What was he to do? Would any of this matter? Tyr was still alive, and even were he dead, Loki would simply be given over to someone else as a slave. Still... he _needed_ this small moment of comfort. He had been so long without anything soft, or warm, or _protective_ as this and he suddenly couldn't resist leaning into Thor, nuzzling his face in the crook of his neck.

As if he could no longer stand it, Thor gathered Loki into his arms and hugged him more fully, wrapping him in the cape is if he were but a babe in swaddling cloths. Loki didn't mind it, though, drinking in the affection and softness of his brother- But was he? Was he _Brother_? Loki was still no Odinson, as Thor, very much so, was.

Had he truly saved him, or was this merely a short respite from the horrors of his never-ending nightmare. Would he not be given to someone else? Or, if Tyr still lived, would he not remain _his_ slave?

But Thor... What would Thor do? Would he capitulate, as he always did, and heed Odin's commands? Or would he... would he-

He couldn't even _think_ it, this small impossible hope. To kill a hope was so much worse than letting it die before it was ever born; but its birth was so glorious, wasn't it? How could he deny such a beauty before it came into the world?

Loki sobbed and clutched at the front of Thor's armor. He jumped fiercely when the chain of the shackle around his ankle was suddenly struck by Mjolnir, the hammer splitting the linked metal into pieces. The metal cuff itself was untouched, but Thor couldn't touch it without injuring Loki as well, he knew.

"Thor wait-" Loki said quickly when Thor picked him up and carried him as he would a child.

"What is it, brother?" asked the thunderer, concern in his eyes still mingled with anger - although clearly not directed at Loki.

"W-what are you doing?" Loki dared ask, fearful, so very fearful of the answer. Now it came to it, would all of this have been for nothing? Loki couldn't bring himself to even smile when the threat of a nightmare's continuation lingered so near.

But Thor frowned. "I am taking you from here; I care not for what-"

A growling voice from behind Thor interrupted him. "How _dare _you defy your father!"

The thunderer whipped around, Loki still in his arms, as he regarded the now awake war god. Tyr was bloody and his skin burned, his posture slumped as he attempted to stand - mostly unsuccessfully as he continually fell with each try. "You have no say in the matter, Tyr," said Thor as he moved to walk toward the door.

"It won't matter!" yelled the god of war over the rain. "He'll be back here- it won't matter. Odin has given him to _me_; the trickster is-"

"What did I say to you about claiming him as yours?" growled Thor as he turned around to once again regard his felled foe. "Speak of him again in that manner and-"

"And what?!" Tyr exploded. "Even a prince is not immune to the penalties of the law, as your precious _brother_ has so graciously demonstrated." He smiled wickedly as he eyed Loki.

The trickster shrunk back, whimpering and hiding his face on his brother's shoulder. "Please, brother," mumbled Loki. He couldn't believe what he was about to say, couldn't fathom _why_, but he had to. _Must I? Why, why, why?_ "I- I cannot go... He is- he is my master now. Please," Loki looked at a shocked Thor's eyes, "you will only make it worse for me...and yourself..."

Thor stared, wide-eyed and disbelieving. "Loki! How- how can you say-" he sputtered, then, as if something had suddenly dawned on him, he straightened himself and looked with a serious expression at Loki. "Brother." The trickster god could do nothing but heed the thunderer with everything in him. "This was not the first time, was it." It was not a question. "He has done this to you before." The sky darkened further, if that were possible. Thor slowly set Loki on his feet but kept his hands firmly on the younger's shoulders, eyes staring intently at the green orbs. "What has he done to you, brother?"

To both brothers' surprise, a rough laugh echoed from where Tyr lay. "Go on," said the war god. "Why don't you answer him, trickster?" He chuckled and then coughed, leaning on the floor.

Loki shook his head desperately, not wishing to tell his brother. _No, I can't, I can't! He shouldn't know, I don't want to..._

"_Tell him!_" screamed Tyr suddenly and Loki jumped, sobbing and whimpering and hugging himself.

"P-please..." Loki cried, tears streaming down his face. "Please don't make me..."

Then suddenly, although he barely noticed at first, it stopped raining. Surprised, Loki looked outside; the sky was dark as pitch, clouds roiling like heavy anger ready to spill forth and drown the world into nothingness. He felt static in the air, could taste it on his tongue. Next, he looked to his brother, but the instant he did he shied away, breath caught in his throat as he could no longer look at the face.

Thor's face was _terrifying_. But his electric eyes were not on Loki, but on Tyr. Then, without a moment's warning, the god of thunder walked briskly over to the war god, then lifted his hammer and smashed it down atop the war god's head. Then, he did it again. Then again, and again, and again, again, again, again...

Loki, terrified, couldn't watch as blood and mangled flesh filled the floor. He heard himself wail and hold the red cloth of his elder brother tighter around himself. _No no no no no_. He didn't know why he said no, just that it was the only word that could form in his head at the moment.

Then, silence.

He felt so heavy, so heavy but so light at once, the conflict of his very being making him want to vomit.

Thunder didn't rumble, rain didn't fall, there was only darkness. For the longest moment, everything remained; the realms stopped spinning.

Then, a light. A cloud broke, and then another, then another.

"Loki."

But Loki could barely hear and his eyes held too much water to see.

"Brother."

Then suddenly he was being turned around, the face of his once-brother - _no, not once, only now, now-brother_ - filling his vision. On instinct, fear still clouding his mind, Loki yelped and jumped down, falling to his face in prostration, holding himself tight.

"Brother, no!" said Thor, his large hands falling over Loki and encouraging him to sit up. "Please, please, don't, brother. I am sorry, I..." he trailed off as Loki slowly lifted his head, looking to the thunder god. "I should not have done that in front of you, but- I could not control myself, you were... I could not endure what you had become."

Loki blinked, staring. His gaze then fell on the bloodied unrecognizable form of the war god- _former_ war god on the floor near the window. A breath left his lips. "D-dead..." was all that left his once silver-tongue.

Thor nodded.

"Dead," said Loki again, still staring.

"Yes, brother."

"He's dead," he repeated. _Doesn't matter! Doesn't matter!_ "But it doesn't matter," Loki voiced his thoughts in a low drone without thinking, eyes still wide and staring at nothing now. "Doesn't matter..." _I'll only belong to someone else. No nightmare will end. Never end never end._

"I will not let another touch you."

Loki blinked again, eyes slowly drifting up to the powerful firm gaze of the elder god. He frowned.

"I will take you from here. You will not be a slave. I care nothing for a father that does not care for his son." He pulled Loki up with both hands on Loki's shoulders. "You are my brother. If you are no longer Odinson, then I am no longer Odinson. There is nothing simpler in the realms."

Loki could do nothing but blink now. But Thor didn't wait for an answer or an acknowledgement; he simply scooped up Loki into his arms again, then, with hammer in hand, flew out the open window and into the sky.

X - X

Loki awoke with something soft and whispy caressing his face. He tried to nuzzle it away, but realized he couldn't move, trapped in something equally soft but firm. _Ah, wonderful_, he thought, _Tyr has fallen asleep on top of me again..._ But it didn't _smell_ like Tyr, it smelled like-

He jerked awake, whimpering and struggling at the weight atop him. Suddenly the weight lifted, blonde strands of hair tickling his face.

"Brother!" exclaimed a wonderfully familiar voice. "Calm yourself, it is only I!"

Blinking furiously at the bright light suddenly in his eyes, the younger god stared as best he could at the unbelievable sight before him._ Brother!_ Thor. It was _Thor_. Thor- Brother. Safe. Warm. Protective. _Thor._

Loki couldn't help it, he burst out crying, not caring who might see or hear him.

"Loki, brother, what is wrong?" But nothing was wrong, was it? Everything was _right_, _too_ right. Loki didn't know where he was, he only knew that he wasn't with Tyr anymore, he wasn't a _slave_, he was only with Brother and Brother was _safe._ He grabbed Thor around the neck as Thor embraced him in return, pulling him close.

"You saved me," Loki cried into Thor's shoulder. "I know you did- _you saved me_!"

Thor's hand ran through his hair, then again and again. "Yes, yes, brother," he kissed him on the nose. "We are not in Asgard any longer - you are safe, _we_ are safe. I told you I would never let another harm you. You know I always keep my word." Loki could hear the smile in his voice and couldn't keep his own smile from forming.

The two finally pulled away as Loki continued smiling. Briefly looking around, he realized they were outside, in some field of grass with trees all around and mountains in the distance. It was a most beautiful sight.

"Where are we?" he asked, glad to turn his attention for a moment to more mundane things.

Thor smiled. "Alfheim. The Light Elves are not beholden to Odin, but they are also not enemies to the Aesir," he finished.

Loki only nodded as he looked around. _Free._ It was a strange thing, to be free. He hadn't felt free in so long, even before he was made a true slave. When _had_ he last been free? Before Thor's failed coronation? No, even that seemed wrong. His own jealousy and bitterness and anger kept him in a darkness of his own making, and before that, the shadow of his elder brother forever held him in its smothering embrace - it had not mattered that Thor meant no ill by it, it was still there. But now...

The sun shone on Thor's face and it seemed all the brighter. But even with that brightness that seemed to engulf the thunder god, Loki didn't feel shadowed by it; he didn't feel that he stood behind him or under him or anywhere else but _beside _him. _The throne... He gave up the throne... for me?_ Tears were forming once again in Loki's eyes as he watched the elder. _How could he do that?_

"Brother," said Thor, catching sight of his distress. "Are you not well?" He shook his head, looking down. "How foolish of me; you have been through Hel and I expect you to recover as soon as you are free, I am sorry-"

Loki stopped him with a hand on his shoulder. "No, brother," he said quietly. "It is not you; you have saved me and I can never repay you for that kindness, but..."

The thunderer frowned. "But what?"

Loki looked around, eyes surveying the beauty around them, the multi-colored flowers that spread across the landscape like waves on a green ocean. "You cannot return to Asgard. The throne-"

"The throne means nothing to me if my brother is not at my side," interrupted Thor.

Loki's eyes darted to his, confused. "But-"

"No more 'buts'. If I am ever to return to Asgard, then you will be with me."

"It's your home..."

Thor smiled. "Nay, brother," he said simply, "_you_ are my home." His smile remained and Loki thought he might be lost in it. "The Nine Realms are but a _thing_. Life is where you are, _home_ is where you are."

Loki didn't know what to say so he sputtered the first thing that came to mind, "B-but what about Mother? She-"

"She is here, Loki. Did you not know?"

The trickster looked about, still confused. "Mother...here?"

"Mother apparently left after your new sentence was named. She had tried so hard for weeks to free you, but... Well, you know Odin." _Odin. Not 'father' anymore, but Odin._

His emotions were flowing, clashing against each other, Loki tried to keep his thoughts straight. "H-how do you know? I thought you were on Midgard..."

Thor pursed his lips. "How do you think we came to be here? I have no way of transporting myself across realms."

Loki's eyebrows shot up. "_Heimdall?_" he blurted out.

Thor nodded, smile lingering. "It seems he already considers Odin a lost king-"

"Then you are his king..." Loki finished, whispering, eyes wide and staring away.

The elder prince tilted his head, conceding the conclusion. "Perhaps. But that will not happen for a long time for the rest of Asgard, I fear."

Loki nodded absently, still mulling over the impossible emotions filling him. _Later, later, later!_ his mind screamed. He didn't care about all that suddenly. The sun was bright and the birds were chirping. The flowers sang to him and the air was clean and crisp and _free_. He smiled widely and looked to his brother. _Brother. My brother._ Thor returned the smile. Without thought Loki lunged at him, hugging him around the neck.

"I love you, brother," Loki heard himself say. It was childish, but he _felt_ like a child again, like the child he used to be - carefree and playing in the fields with his older brother; before everything, before lessons and friends and magic and _anything_ that had ever come between them.

"I love you, too," chuckled the thunder god, falling backward when Loki leaned in further.

The mischief god continued smiling as he rubbed his face against Thor's chest, allowing himself to be held. They would go visit their mother soon, see her and be together as a family again, but now, just for now, he would enjoy life, enjoy being here, with nothing in the whole world but Brother, because right now, that's all he needed.

* * *

A/N: Aww, fluff! I couldn't end it any other way after all that horrible stuff I did to poor Loki. Realistically, of course, he's not magically all better, but we won't be seeing that recovery process so just enjoy the brotherly fluffiness! (And I know the tone is different at the end compared to the rest of the fic, but again, I'm a sucker for good feels, just had to go that way.) If you'd like, you can imagine this turns into Thorki - or you can keep it bromantic, could go either way, your choice. ^^

A/N 2: I wanted to ask, do you guys think this fic is okay to keep on FFnet? My other stories can get pretty explicit, but this one is _particularly_ brutal, if you ask me. I'd hate for my profile to spontaneously get deleted because of this one story. I have my fics on AO3, of course, so you can follow me there if it does happen.


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